


Sinking For Something

by parachutiste



Category: Bastille, To Kill A King
Genre: M/M, RPF, Randalph, set during uni times, the mature is bordering on explicit if that helps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 08:05:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2765774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parachutiste/pseuds/parachutiste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan thinks it's worth a try, liking how it feels a little bit weird at first, and not weird at all pretty soon after. Ralph always seems to forget the next morning. Dan doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sinking For Something

**Author's Note:**

> This has been developed from a series of asks that were exchanged a while ago between me and ao3 user [theonline](http://archiveofourown.org/users/theonline/pseuds/theonline). Two of these asks of theirs have been (with their permission) incorporated right into the fic, including the momentous “i'm not drunk enough for that shit” and “you'll have to buy me lunch for this.” (◡‿◡✿)
> 
> It's quite different from my usual writing style and I hit major plot road block somewhere along the way, so I'm a little nervous as to whether/how it works as a whole. But it was mostly intended to be a happy (somewhat happy – not entirely angst‐ridden –) fandom piece and I hope it still does the job. 
> 
> (Also, I've got a giant hyphen/en dash fiasco at hands, so if you notice anything off in that regard, I'm trying to fix it.)
> 
> Disclaimer: this is a fanwork, utterly fictitious, and means no disrespect towards the parties it was inspired by. No reposting to other websites or tweeting about it to the bands or anything like that, for fuck's sake.
> 
> Title from Voxtrot's “Mothers, Sisters, Daughters, and Wives”.

Dan knows by know how it works, how Ralph gets when they stay out a little longer than they probably should, when they walk home because the next bus isn't until in 30 minutes, and neither wants to spend the money on a cab. The first time it happens, Dan thinks it's a joke, Ralph suddenly pulling him in and pressing a long, wet kiss somewhere down the line of his neck, and Dan tells him to _shove it_ , laughing and still clutching at his shoulders for support. Ralph pauses for a moment, then leans back in and licks all along Dan's jaw line and up to the corner of his mouth, and Dan stops, wide eyed and speechless, because that's not the punchline he expected.

Dan thinks it's worth a try, liking how it feels a little bit weird at first, and not weird at all pretty soon after. Ralph always seems to forget the next morning. Dan doesn't.

 

It doesn't change much at first. Ralph still cooks in the morning because he's got the earlier classes and also because, in Ralph's own words, Dan's just _shit with pans_ , and they still have their movie nights and jam sessions, teasing each other about who is going to be whose support act first, and then always agreeing that it won't matter as long as they're going on tour together. Neither of them is dating anyone. It's fine. It's nothing.

It's when Dan finds his face heating up when he sees Ralph coming out of the bathroom shirtless, or getting nervous about something as simple as being jammed into a pub booth together, knees and elbows pressed into each other's sides, or thinking of him nearly every time that he touches himself, that Dan is ready to admit that it's probably a sign of, well, _something_.

Ralph puts his head in Dan's lap and pushes a truly magnificent stack of flashcards into his hand to quiz him on an upcoming test, and Dan's stomach makes an impressive little flip that he suspects has little to do with the dynamics of fruit fly populations.

 

Dan wakes up strewn half across Ralph's chest, Ralph's arm loosely slung across his lower back, and he sighs, trying to remember what day of the week it is and whether they possibly need to be somewhere; he decides to trust Ralph's sense of punctuality on that one. He's both horny and needs to take a piss, and while he's contemplating what to take care of first, Ralph shifts, sliding his thigh conveniently closer to Dan's crotch, and before Dan can make the conscious decision not to, he presses close and just grinds down against him. All he remembers from the end of last night is stumbling over something heavy on the way to the bed while trying to fumble open Ralph's belt, and he doubts they actually got to do much more after that, so –

There is a brief moment where Dan thinks Ralph's hips are moving against his, thighs sliding open at the contact, and Dan nestles his head in the crook of Ralph's neck and is about to reach for his belt when he feels Ralph's hand on his shoulder, pushing him off of him with much more force than necessary.

Ralph says, “I'm not drunk enough for that shit,” and yeah, that _hurts_. Dan rolls over, listening to Ralph get up and cross the hall into the bathroom. He hears the toilet being flushed, then the shower starts running a moment later. Dan groans and hides his face into the pillows; it would probably be best to just get the fuck out.

 

Dan doesn't really know why he waits until Ralph comes back, why he stays and watches him rub dry his hair and pull on clean clothes; maybe it's because he does not want to take the blame for this, because what _Ralph's_ doing is fucked up, really, and some of this must translate to Ralph, because the look on his face softens, and he drops the towel and sinks down onto his knees.

“This is a one time thing, Smith,” Ralph says, but he's smirking, and Dan hates how easily he gives in to this but nods and scoots up the mattress to make room for him. Ralph doesn't even take off his boxers, just pulls them down enough to get at Dan's cock and all Dan can think of is how glad he is that's he's not drunk out of his mind for this. Ralph certainly seems to know what he's doing and Dan wonders how many one time things there's actually been in his past. He grips Dan's hips just right, and it's slick and hot and on the good side of _a‐little‐bit‐too‐much_ , and Dan moans and thinks that this will definitely not help him stop jerking off to various Ralph-related scenarios, but he'll deal with _that_ later.

Dan can't say if it's generally that good with any guy or if it's because of Ralph, and the way he growls when Dan's hips jerk upwards and how his forearm pins him back down again, or, you know, just the sight of Ralph's mouth working around his cock like it's fucking part of his morning routine. Ralph's hand reaches down to cup his balls, and Dan really wants to draw it out a little longer, possibly for an hour, or two, or maybe forever, but, _well_. “ _Ralph_ –” he grits out for a warning but Ralph doesn't try to move away, just sucks and licks and pumps all his remaining coherency right out of him.

There is a small bit of come on Ralph's chin and he wipes it off and licks it from his finger, laughing when Dan goes wide eyed at the sight. He leans over him and kisses him deep and Dan can't help but moan again and pull him closer. Ralph lets him for just a bit, then pushes him back into the covers, much gentler this time, and gets up.

“You owe me some lunch,” he says, grinning and wiping his mouth for emphasis. He throws Dan some jeans, and Dan rolls his eyes and wonders just how many of his other friends casually blow each other before breakfast.

 

They've all got to study a lot, exams and presentations coming up, and Dan scores a job at a local radio station that keeps him further occupied; he comes home late and sometimes falls asleep on the living room couch to the sounds of Ralph picking through chords for a new song, or the background noise of a crappy movie that both are too tired to properly pay attention to anyway. It's good. It's them. And Dan _knows_ what _one time thing_ means but he can't help but wonder if maybe, _maybe_ –

It's weeks before they go out again, the whole crowd gathering for what is both a birthday celebration and a _somehow‐we're‐still‐alive‐after‐finals_ kind of thing, and Dan doesn't really know what he expected. The problem, he senses, is that he expected anything in the first place. Ralph makes a point of bringing around one of his _girl_ friends, and he keeps an arm around her waist for most part of the night, leaning in to whisper into her ear and laughing low at whatever she says in return. Dan tries not to look over too often. He fails spectacularly.

Sophie nudges his knee under the table and asks, “You ok?” and Dan gives her his best pretend‐smile, but she knows him too well even for that. “You can crash at my place for tonight. If you want,” she says emphatically, looking past him to where Ralph and his – date? – are seated, and Dan's face flushes with embarrassment, both at how apparent his misery must be and at how relieved he actually is at the offer.

In the morning, Dan holds out in Sophie's kitchen, clutching at a long‐cold mug of barely sipped‐on tea.

“It's just hard – living with him at the same time, you know?”

Sophie does, and there really isn't much else she can say.

 

Dan doesn't go home until late afternoon, hating how he has to avoid his own place but also really really not wanting to run into whoever could've stayed the night. He never realised how long it's actually been since they last had girls over for the night. The thought doesn't help.

Ralph is slouching on the couch, flicking through TV channels even though they never watch TV. He says, “There's paella in the kitchen,” gaze briefly flickering to Dan and then back to the screen, and Dan says, “Oh,” and that's that. He opens his mouth to suggest that maybe they should –, but then Ralph starts cursing at the remote, the batteries dying on one of the teleshopping channels, and the moment's gone.

It doesn't really get better than this. Dan is waiting for Ralph to say something, and Ralph is waiting for – who knows what Ralph is waiting for. Dan makes excuses for why he doesn't go out as much anymore, obvious, lazy excuses, and it makes him angry that Ralph accepts them with a shrug every single time. Ralph still leaves two slices of French toast and jam out for him in the morning, but no matter when Dan wakes up, he never manages to catch him, and Dan chews listlessly on his breakfast, wondering if this is how it's going to be from now on.

At night, Dan never stops thinking about Ralph, never tries to, maybe, but only because he feels like it would be futile anyway. When he touches himself, fingers curling around his cock when he can't ignore the pressure any longer, he thinks of all the ways he would say Ralph's name, plead and moan and gasp and implore, and quickly bites his lip so as not to _actually_ do it. Every time, he's trying to make it fast, at least not to dwell on the thoughts for too long if he can't shut them out completely, and when he comes, it's a brief spike of relief against a general state of unnerving dissatisfaction.

 

There is a song contest on campus, Bloody Awful Poetry, and Dan thinks, well, _maybe_. They each write on their own but their mash‐ups sound pretty decent. Ralph started putting some videos up on youtube and there are more green than red thumbs to each one of them; no need to die of embarrassment just yet, Dan concludes. He walks up to the sign‐up board and spots Ralph's unruly scribble right away: _Pelleymounter, R. Contestants: One._ Dan breathes in and out slowly a couple of times to keep himself from ripping the entire thing off altogether.

He smacks one of the flyers on the kitchen table, right in front of Ralph, then stares at him indignantly.

Ralph looks at him briefly, then takes his time emptying the entire carton of milk he was drinking from before saying, “I just thought – with how busy you've been –”

“And you couldn't have just asked.”

Ralph doesn't say anything in response.

 

Dan goes to bed early, intending to just spend the weekend at the library, studying, or staring off into space, he doesn't know which yet. He wakes up to someone gently shaking his shoulder, and there is a split second where he contemplates pretending to sleep through it. When he opens his eyes, he sees Ralph crouching by the side of his bed, silhouette vague in the barely illuminated room.

“What time is it?” Dan asks, propping himself up on his elbow and making a half‐hearted attempt to reach for his glasses.

“I don't know.”

Ralph's voice is scratchy; Dan can smell the pub on him, and he honestly doesn't even want to –

Ralph puts one hand on Dan's knee, making him shiver from how cold it is, and Dan swallows and sits up. Ralph's fingers are inching up along the inside of his thigh, warming on his skin, and it'd be so easy to just –

“I'm too sober for this shit,” Dan says, and his voice is quiet and flat and he's surprised he's able to say it at all, but he's relieved when he does. It must be convincing enough because Ralph drops his hand immediately.

“Alright,” he says quietly, and Dan watches him get up. “Alright.”

Dan lets out a long sigh when Ralph closes the door behind him and tugs at his hair in exasperation; _how_ is this _still_ getting worse?

 

Putting it all behind him – if that's what Ralph _wants_ him to do – would have been a lot easier if Ralph hadn't shown up in his room in the middle of the night, trying the same shit that got them into this mess in the first place.

“I wish we could just go back to how it was before. I mean, that was one hell of a blowjob but –”

Sophie splutters into her mug.

“Sorry,” Dan says sheepishly.

“No, it's – okay, I guess. It's just – has either one of you, at any point, ever, actually tried talking about it?”

“ _Soph_ ,” Dan says, and rolls his eyes at her, because what else can he do if he does not want to admit that no, they actually haven't.

 

Sophie finds him in the cafeteria, which Ralph took to hiding in in‐between classes instead of, say, going home and inappropriately approaching Dan with sexual propositions again. Actions do not always speak louder than words, he knows that now. That's about all he knows, though. That and the undeniable fact that things are going to shit. Sophie drops a giant stack of books on the table, then sits down opposite of him, graciously levelling two take‐away coffees which she somehow managed to balance in her other hand.

Ralph reaches for one of the cups. “Thanks.”

“They're both for me.”

“Oh.”

She scrutinizes him for a long while, then her face softens a little. “If you like him – _tell him_.”

Ralph sits up, feeling as if someone just drenched his insides in copious amounts of ice water.

“If you do not like him – _tell him_. Tell him _something_. Because whatever you think you're doing right now, you're making it worse.”

Sophie takes a sip of her beverage – well, one of her beverages –, and leans back. Ralph frowns and crosses his arms. He wants to tell her off, say it's none of her business, except that what she's saying sounds about right. The problem, he thinks, is not with admitting he's wrong. It's the question of whether he can still make it right. Of course, there's right about one person who could tell him. Ralph frowns some more.

“You're doing it again,” Sophie says with a smile, a genuine one, and gets up. She leaves the other cup standing after all.

 

Ralph squeezes _+Dan Smith_ into the column and hopes for the best.

 

Dan has been re‐watching old DVDs, looking for scenes he could use for a slightly obscure and possibly not entirely legal video project when he hears Ralph turn the key in the front door. He gets up when Ralph comes in, intending to continue in his bedroom instead. He realises he hasn't even said hello, not out of malice, but because they've both got so good at this avoiding each other game that Dan doesn't know where he's supposed to draw the line.

“I'm an asshole, okay,” Ralph says and Dan stops in his tracks, hands clutching around his various equipment. He raises one eyebrow and says, “Well – yeah, kind of.”

“And a crappy friend,” Ralph continues. Dan opens his mouth, and Ralph gives him a look and says, “Please?”

Dan flops down onto the sofa again. “Okay.”

Ralph walks over to sit down next to him. “So in my agreed upon status as asshole and crappy friend, I want to say I'm sorry. I've been clearly taking the easiest way out and it hasn't been fair to you. At all.”

That sounds – _nice?_ Dan thinks, and definitely something he wants to believe in. He looks down at his lap, plugging and unplugging the headphones in and out of his lap top. “Do you _want_ out?” he asks. He really only says it because he thinks there's the tiniest chance this is going somewhere good and if – if this is actually Ralph's elaborate way of announcing that he's moving out – or that _Dan's_ moving out –

“Not unless you want me to.”

Dan turns to look at him, bites his lip. “Then what the _fuck_ , Ralph? Honestly.” He's not angry, just – tired, and really ready to clear this up once and for all.

“I'm sorry. I went about it all wrong and so I tried to take it back which was a great success, obviously.” Ralph smiles wryly at that. “I was afraid I was going to mess us up. Which I ironically did anyway. I really should have just opened my mouth a lot sooner and – what?” he asks, when Dan laughs and shakes his head.

“It's just – did Soph help you with that?”

“Just a little,” Ralph admits, smiling sheepishly. There is a long pause. Out of the corner of his eyes, Dan can see Ralph's fingers thrumming nervously against his thigh.

“I guess what I really want to say,” Ralph adds quietly, “is that you never were a _one time thing_ , Dan.”

Dan's heart takes a nervous little leap and then pumps and pumps and pumps with renewed vigour as if trying to apologise for the glitch. It takes Dan a while to wrap his mind around the realisation that out of everything Ralph could have said, this is what he wanted to hear the most.

“Okay,” Dan says finally. “Okay.” He doesn't really know where to go from here; but he doesn't mind, not necessarily. He could stay like this for a long time, here, on the couch with Ralph, smiling at each other. He missed this. A lot.

“Want to tell me what you've been working on?” Ralph asks with an uncharacteristic nervous hitch to his voice, and Dan is glad he does because he's been dying to tell him, actually.

He's babbling. Good thing it's nothing new to Ralph. He pulls up five different tabs and diverts into brainstorming for the soundtrack before he can get to any of them. He feels Ralph's gaze on him the entire time, and it feels good.

 

Friday Night Out is successfully reinstated. Dan texts Sophie three times that they're coming and would have sent a fourth message too, had she not replied with a rather explicit string of emoticons. Dan still can't stop smiling.

At the pub, Sophie declares that her tab is on them and neither one objects. When Ralph gets up to go to the bathroom, she leans in and not‐so‐subtly elbows him in the side.

“Want to go home with me tonight?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows. “My flat‐mates are all out of town.”

“Nah,” Dan says, corner of his mouth quirking upwards. “I think I'm good here.”

 

The temperature fell suddenly over night, the air crisp and biting at their cheeks a little. They're sober, having had no more than a pint each, and Ralph proposes they walk, the night calm and clear, the hour still early. Dan nods and follows, heart thumping heavily in his chest, trying hard not to skip a beat.

Admittedly, it gets cold after a couple of streets, and Dan rubs his hands together and thinks that if Ralph simply wanted to get home, they could have just waited for the bus. Something in Dan's stomach coils uncomfortably; if he's honest, he expected more shared personal space by now and less – solemn unpredictable silence. He assumed this is what the past week, this night, have been building up to; he's not sure how many more rounds of doubt and misunderstandings he can handle. They stop at a street light and Dan opens his mouth to say – _something_ , but then Ralph reaches for his hand and tugs him along, taking a turn where they need to get off the main street, and all he can do is not bump into him when he stops and turns around.

Dan only has time to nervously lick his lips, once, and he can see Ralph smiling until his face is just a couple of inches away. His hands are fisted in the collar of Dan's jacket, and Dan feels a warmth spread through his body, leaving him flushed and aquiver. Ralph pauses, thumb grazing along the line of his jaw, and Dan closes the gap himself. It's slow, almost shy, and so different from the messy drunken kisses they've shared before. Ralph lets his fingers sink into Dan's hair, pulling him closer and tilting his head a little bit, and Dan's lips part on a sigh. It feels so good knowing that he won't have to forget, or _pretend_ to forget, the next morning.

Dan wants to take it slow and make it right and memorise every millisecond of it, at the same time wanting to speed it all up because he's so done with waiting, fuck _that_ , and his mind is swimming with all the things he wants to do with Ralph, starting right fucking now, _finally_ , and –

Dan breaks away, frowning, and takes a moment to catch his breath before saying, “Just to be clear – this is not one of those things I'll have to buy you lunch for afterwards, is it?”

Ralph laughs, then pulls him in again.


End file.
